Pregnancy Hermones
by Artemis Requiem
Summary: Lana/Archer Pregnancy Hermones


Fourteen weeks into her pregnancy, Lana started showing.

Of course, "showing" for Lana meant something very different than it might mean for a non-lethal, normal-bodied woman. "Showing" at fourteen weeks merely meant that Lana could no longer boast undenaibly perfect abdominals, and where there had once been solid muscle the tiniest, faintest bump protrouded from under her dress. Anyone who didn't know Lana extremely well (in short, anyone who wasn't a judgemental ISIS staff member) wouldn't register a pregnant woman was standing in front of them if their lives depended on it.

Alas, Sterling Archer was not anyone, he already knew she was pregnant, and he definitely had a lot to say about it.

"Holy, shit, Lana!"

"I know, Archer. My tits are huge, they have been huge, and they are only going to continue to get huger as the weeks go on, so you may as well stop-"

"No! Well, I wouldn't say, like, the hugest tits I've seen, of course, you're right about them getting bigger, but-"

She turned on a heel and started for the elevator. She had long ago adapted the "quit while he's ahead" mentality regarding conversations with Archer.

He sidestepped her. "What I was going to say, Lana, if you let me finish, is that I think...Lana...that's a bump!" Before she had time to register what was happening, he had excitedly pressed a hand to her belly.

Her eyes flashed suspiciously. "What, exactly, are you implying?"

He looked up at her, wide-eyed and innocent, hand still resting on her stomach. "Duh, that this is totally the most awesome thing that's happened to you in your entire life? Lana, there's a tiny person inside you! Possibly a little mulat-"

"Archer, we are not going to have another conversation about why we don't use that word-"

"-To, except you still haven't told us the race of your sperm donor for some reason, and I'm not allowed to be excited?"

She eyed him warily. Archer had been suspiciously sweet during this whole pregnancy, even holding the elevator for her more than once, and she wasn't naive enough to assume there was no ulterior motive, because there always was with Archer, except. Well. There was that thing he had told her on the research vessel a few months ago, that, unsurprisingly, had not been brought up since.

"Archer, you're drunk." She didn't know this for a fact, but it was a pretty safe gamble.

"I can be drunk and excited for you at the same time!" There was something so disturbingly earnest about the expression on his face that it was starting to give Lana extremely dangerous stirrings in her chest.

Also, possibly other reigions.

That was the thing about these pregnancy hormones. It took barely a glance in her direction from Archer before Lana was excusing herself to the ladies' room, blaming it on her pregnant bladder, just to get a hold of herself.

And now he wasn't glancing so much as positively beaming. Which was troublingly arousing.

"Archer, I..." Damn it. She had something for this! She searched, wildly. "Archer, get your hand off my stomach!" Wow, nailed it, Kane.

" 'Kay," he said, and for one bizarre moment Lana thought he was actually listening to her...until she realized he was instead taking the opportunity to reach around and cup her ass.

"Archer!"

"You didn't say where to put it instead!"

She sighed laboriously and covered the hand with her own, intending to remove it herself and tell him exactly where to shove it.

Except she had only successfully gotten to the first part. The heat coming from his hand was keeping her from the second.

"Lana," Archer said, with a completely different (albeit no less smug) tone.

She chose not to answer, steering them towards the elevator door and pressing the putton with her other hand. Her hand was still covering his hand, which was still, as it so happened, palming her ass.

"Lana," he said again.

She rolled her eyes towads the heavens in a silent, impassioned plea to some diety to answer her why.

"Lana," he said a third time, louder, as the elevator door opened.

Rather than dignifying his idiocy with a response, she did the reasonable thing and shoved him inside and against the wall, covering his mouth with her own.

Archer, bless him, liked sex even more than he liked annoying her, and he immediately set to work helping her unzip his pants with one hand, taking the other from off her ass and working it against her panties.

She managed to stifle her moan against him, because he certainly did not need the ego boost, but in the next moment he was brushing aside her underwear and testing her against his thumb, and she let out a sharp groan.

She broke the kiss and braced herself for the inevitable smug remark, but intsead found Archer positively humming against the freckle between her breasts as he slid a finger inside her.

She hated how wet she was and she also hated how out of contol this was making her feel. She yanked him closer by his boxer briefs and slowly, almost meticulously ran her hand against his erection just to watch his breath hitch, before guiding him inside her.

He lifted her up against him, running his hands up from her lower back and leaving them to rest on her shoulders, and she wrapped her legs around him and arched back further while he began thrusting.

He leaned in close to press a kiss at the spot where her ear met her throat, once, twice, and she could blame the hormones but she was stifling a scream as she came, panting, against him.

Hang on, why would he...?

That's when Archer leaned in close, whispered in her ear, "Danger zone."

She slapped him.

Except, apparently, that was the magic touch because he ellicited a low, "Lana," still in her ear, for once not bellowed down the ISIS corridors, and his knees buckled.

Well. That's one new thing she learned today.

Certainly the only thing that she was going to dwell on.

That certainly explained this neck-kissing business.

Yup, it certainly did.

When I go flying off the edge,

You go flying off as well.


End file.
